


Without Gods, Without Guidance

by dancing_dazai



Category: Death Parade (Anime), 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Soukoku, death parade au, they may not know each other but dazai is still an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-01-17 22:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12375510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_dazai/pseuds/dancing_dazai
Summary: Without gods, without guidance,By the window, a woman has passed on;the white sky is blind,the white wind is cold.-The Hour of Death, Chuuya NakaharaTwo lost souls find their way to Quindecim with no memories of who they are or how they got there, and they're determined to get their lives back. No matter the cost.





	1. Welcome Home, Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this idea just came from me having an unhealthy obsession with both of these amazing shows. I also think an official Death Parade AU would be a pretty cool idea and I'm excited to see how these two will cope with their situation. Please don't forget to leave a kudos if you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=to7pBlL-rQ4&list=PLu_ACHb5UXf5pnZQUTb1cDlObDbQbCQNn&index=1  
> This was the music I listened to while writing this chapter; maybe it will help you in visualising the scene the same way it helped me ^^;; or you can just listen to it in your free time, it's a really beautiful piece of music~

The groan of a loud, metal contraption ground against his eardrums, the floor under his feet vibrating violently as he became conscious of his surroundings. The walls around him shook in the same way as the floor, as if the room itself were moving, and when he opened his eyes he was met with the glare of a harsh, blue-tinted light. He held up a hand to shield his face, quickly realising that he must be in an elevator, before glancing down at himself. His suit, coat and shoes were in perfect condition, and he ran a hand through his hair to find that it was clean and neatly brushed. That was strange. He hadn't remembered doing anything to it, before… before…

Actually, he didn't remember doing anything at all. He remembered nothing before the elevator. 

Tilting his head down away from the glaring spotlight, he instead focused his attention on the walls surrounding him. They were plain and undecorated, save from a brown, wooden border that was level with his shoulders, but that alone didn't give him any clues to where he was. The floor beneath him was grey and smooth like marble, so reflective he could almost make out his own face staring back at him. But that didn't tell him anything either.

He jumped in surprise when the elevator squealed to a halt, throwing him off-balance slightly as he was jolted forwards. The sound of the machinery died down and was quickly replaced with the small ring of an elevator bell. He straightened out his coat with a frown, watching dubiously as the metal door slid open with a squeak. 

Taking a deep breath, he slowly stepped outside.

The first thing that caught his attention was the change in colour. The blinding light of the elevator was quickly replaced with the warm, orange glow of a narrow corridor, and he glanced upwards at the source of light – a large, square panel in the ceiling. The eerie corridor before him was dimly-lit, turning at a right angle round a corner. He didn't dare to walk any further. 

The second thing he noticed was a strange ornament above his head that glinted in the light and caught his eye as he turned around. Mounted above the entrance to the elevator was the head of a smiling, golden devil. Its teeth were pointed and bared in his direction, and its black, glassy eyes stared at him with what could only be described as malice. The man gulped, directing his eyes away from the odd decoration as an uneasy feeling crept up his spine.

The third thing he noticed – and he wondered, suddenly, why he hadn't noticed this sooner – was the dark-haired young man standing on the other side of the corridor, staring directly at him. His hands were buried in his black trenchcoat pockets as he casually leaned against the wall, his eyes were latched onto the redhead’s with a strange, curious intensity. 

The shorter of the two men took a quick step back, his hands tightening into fists as the stranger continued to watch him quietly.

“Hey, you!” he called, readying his posture for a fight. “What the hell is going on? Who are you?”

The brunet simply sighed, pulling his hands from his suit pockets to give him a half-hearted shrug.

“Don't ask me,” he replied. “It looks like I'm in the same position as you. Where are we?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? I've never seen this place before in my life!” The shorter man sighed, letting one hand unfurl and rest on his hip as the other straightened the fedora on his head.

“Look, I have places to be. The only way we're going to find a way out of this place is to look around, so either come with me or stay here. I don't care,” he grumbled, stepping forwards down the corridor. It was only a second later that he heard a second pair of footsteps catch up to his own, and he turned his head to see the dark-haired man calmly striding alongside him.

“I guess you're coming with me, then?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“It's not like I don't have places to be, too, you know,” the taller man replied, folding his arms across his chest with a pout. “Let's just find an exit already.”

“Tch. Whatever.” 

As the two men rounded the corridor they were greeted by the gentle sound of running water, and they turned their heads to see a small, shallow pool sitting beside the hallway. The surface glistened under the light of the small paper lanterns above their heads and giant bamboo shoots poked up from the sparkling water, their branches swaying gently in a non-existent breeze. The leaves brushed against the taller one's cheek as he walked past, and he glanced across the water at the strangely picturesque scenery. The shorter man kept his eyes on the floor, glaring down at his feet as he walked. They passed the pool in silence and walked further down the hallway, leaving the sound of rustling leaves and trickling water behind. When the redhead looked up from the floor, his eyes widened in surprise. 

At the end of the hallway was an enormous, circular room with a fifty-foot crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Its long, tendril-like decorations and domed, glass top gave it the appearance of a jellyfish, resembling the strange aquatic creatures that were being kept in a large glass tank nearby. The stands that surrounded the outside of the room were empty, save from several display mannequins sat a few seats apart in every section. From where the men were standing, a dark red carpet led towards an out of place, dimly-lit bar in the centre of the room. The wooden seats were decorated with green velvet and illuminated by several glowing lanterns hanging from the top of the bar, and behind the counter stood a well-dressed man with oddly-cut white hair. His long fringe cascaded over one eye, while the one that was visible almost glowed with a shocking intensity. 

_What the hell…?_

The redhead gulped when he caught sight of the man's blank, stoic expression. Turning his head slightly, he looked at the other person by the bar. Standing watchfully by the white-haired man's side was a woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Her long, dark hair fell just past her shoulders and matched her the colour of her outfit almost perfectly, save for the single white stripe in her bangs. She wore the same expressionless mask as the bartender. 

At least, the redhead _assumed_ that he was the bartender. Who else could he be?

His thoughts were interrupted when the white-haired man cleared his throat. 

“Good evening. Please have a seat.” He leaned forwards, offering a polite bow to his two customers. “Welcome to Quindecim.”


	2. It's All Fun And Games Until He's Begging You For Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, it’s been a while – sorry about the wait. I hope you enjoy~!

“Welcome to what-now?”

The redhead watched the bartender pour a glass of red wine and leave it on the counter, seemingly waiting for him to take a seat. Two different pairs of cold, sapphire eyes met from across the room and the redhead folded, letting out a frustrated sigh as he slowly made his way towards the counter. He perched on a seat in the middle, directly in front of the bartender, resting his elbows on the smooth, mahogany surface. 

“What is this place?” he asked cautiously, narrowing his eyes at the wine glass in front of him as he watched the white-haired man pour a small glass of whiskey. “How did we get here?”

The bartender held up a hand to interrupt and left the whiskey in front of the empty seat next to him. 

“Please, before we continue, allow me to formally introduce myself,” he said, leaning forwards in a bow. “I am your bartender, Decim. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Cut the crap,” the redhead growled, reluctantly picking up the wine glass. “What the hell is going on here? Where are we? Did _you_ bring us here?” 

He turned his head to the side as the dark-haired man practically leapt on to the tool beside him.

“Hey, can you even believe this shi–”

_“Beautiful, absolutely beautiful!”_

The brunet was kneeling up on the seat with his torso thrown over the counter, holding the female assistant's hands in his own. 

“You have such lovely, delicate hands,” he cooed, stroking his thumbs over her pale skin as he gazed up at her in adoration. “And your _eyes_. They're as bright and radiant as a lotus, my dear – simply _stunning_. Oh, what I would give to commit a double suicide with a fair maiden like you,” he purred, his eyes glancing down at their intertwined hands. The assistant stared down at him in shock. 

“A double _what?_ ”

“If you could kindly stop harassing my assistant, sir, I would be most grateful,” Decim said, his brow furrowed. “I’m afraid that I must ask you both something important.” 

The sharp tone caused both heads to turn as the two young men looked up at the bartender. 

“Do either of you remember anything from before you arrived here?” he asked.

The dark-haired man paused before sitting down properly on his seat, looking thoughtful as he tilted his head to the side.

“Not that I can think of,” he replied, biting his thumb nail. “I remember that it was dark, and I was cold, but then the lights went out and I woke up here.” He turned to the redhead. 

“What about you, shorty? You remember anything?” 

The redhead growled into his glass before placing it on the counter with a loud clink. 

“Nothing,” he said simply. “All I remember was a flash of light, then I woke up in the elevator.”

“I see. Thank you very much.” The bartender offered a small bow. “My assistant and I are now going to explain your circumstances. I must ask that you do not interrupt and pay close attention.”

Both men glanced at each other apprehensively before leaning forwards in their seats.

“Number one: I cannot answer the question of where you are,” Decim said, “so please try to refrain from asking.” The brunet sighed quietly, taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“Number two: both of you are here to play a game,” said the assistant. The redhead’s eyes widened. 

“A _game?_ ” he spluttered indignantly. The brunet nudged him with his elbow and he fell quiet with a hiss of his teeth. 

“Number three: the game you are going to play will be chosen by roulette,” Decim continued, ignoring the interruption. As soon as the words left his mouth, a large, green, metal board dropped into place behind him with a loud, heavy clunk of machinery, startling the two men in their seats. 

“Number four,” the assistant said. “Your lives will be staked on the outcome of this game.” 

“H-Hold on a second!” shouted the redhead. "What do you mea–?”

“And number five,” said Decim, turning to his assistant. “Until the game is over and a winner has been declared…” 

“The pair of you are forbidden from leaving the bar,” she finished. 

The two men glanced at each other in stunned silence. 

“So, okay. Let me get this straight,” said the man with red hair. “You think you can just waste my time by having me sat around playing a _game_ while I have important business to attend to?” 

“That is correct,” said Decim, his eye firmly locked on to the redhead’s. 

The redhead let out a laugh of disbelief. 

“Nope. Not happening.” 

“The same goes for me,” the brunet said calmly. 

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” said the assistant. 

“Look, as pretty as you are, lady, if you won’t die with me then you have nothing to offer. And as for the whole ‘our lives are at stake’ thing…” 

He patted the redhead on the shoulder before standing up and pushing his seat back towards the bar. 

“C’mon, shorty. We’re outta here.” 

“Don’t call me that, damn it!” 

As the two men strayed away from the bar and headed back down the narrow corridor past the water, the young assistant turned to her partner. 

“Are we following through with the usual procedure, Decim?” 

“Yes. Though their lives may have been special, their behaviour in Quindecim will be no different from the others. Give them five minutes.” 

A loud clank of metal and a series of frustrated yells interrupted his thoughts. 

_“God damn it, why won’t the doors open?!”_  
_“You’re not pushing hard enough. You’re just going to dent it.”_  
_“I’LL DENT YOU IN A MINUTE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”_

The assistant raised an eyebrow at her partner. 

“On second thought,” Decim said, “we may have to give it ten. Something tells me these two aren’t going to give up so easily.” 

 

At the end of the corridor, the shorter of the two men threw himself at the elevator door one more time. 

“How many times are you going to keep doing that?” the brunet asked as he stood leaning against the wall. 

“As many times as it takes to get me out of here!” he screamed, taking a run up and ramming the door with his body. The sound of metal meeting bone and flesh echoed through the hallway and the redhead yelped, sliding down the front of the elevator door and clutching his shoulder in pain. 

“Fuck!” 

The brunet let out a chuckle. 

“Are you trying to dislocate something?” he asked. “You could just pinch yourself, you know. Waking up doesn’t usually take an injury.” 

“ _Shut up!_ Let’s just… try something else.” 

“That’s more like it! This way, then,” the brunet said. “I saw a hallway with a couple of doors back at the bar. There might be a fire escape down there – we can try to get out that way.” 

“Why didn’t you point that out sooner?!” 

“Simple. I wanted to see you try and break your arm.” 

“You’re an asshole. Just take me to this fucking door.” 

 

Rounding the corner, Decim and his assistant watched in mild amusement as the two men headed down the dimly-lit corridor away from the bar. There were two doors on each side, two blue and two purple, along with a fifth door at the end of the corridor, making it a dead end. The brunet stepped forwards and tried the handle on the last door. 

He sighed. 

“No good. It’s locked.” 

“Fuck,” the redhead growled as he looked around the new corridor. “Let’s try one of these other doors. The exit has to be _somewhere_.” 

“Agreed. You try the right, I’ll try the left.” 

The two men stepped in opposite directions, each trying one of the two doors that lined each side of the corridor. One stepped into a bathroom with blue walls, lights and an ornate, glass floor. One stepped into a bedroom with a queen-sized bed, which was decorated with tall, mahogany bed posts and a canopy that matched the velvet, purple sheets. 

Stepping back out into corridor, they tried the two remaining doors. 

The brunet walked into what appeared to be a waiting room with blue and purple leather sofas, a wide-screen TV, and a service desk in the corner. But when he rang the bell at the service desk, nobody came to attend it. The redhead walked into an area that looked like it had once been a nursery or play area for children with plush, clean carpet. Every toy, slide and colouring crayon was purple. 

Decim kept his eye locked on to the two men as they slowly made their way back over to the bar. The redhead’s face was the colour of his hair. 

“If you are quite finished,” the bartender said patiently, “my assistant and I are ready to begin the roulette.” 

The redhead’s sapphire eyes met the bartender’s electric blue ones with malice. 

“Go to hell,” he growled. “You can’t just keep us here against our will like this.”

“I have already explained that you cannot leave the bar until the game is over,” Decim said calmly. “The game must have a winner.” 

The redhead sneered, lowering his head until the brim of his hat covered one eye. 

“And what if we refuse to play your little game?” he asked. 

Decim’s eyes sharpened, and the assistant looked away. 

“…I would not recommend that.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you wouldn’t _recommend_ that, okay. Screw you!” the redhead yelled. “Listen, we’re not taking part in any stupid fucking game until we know the truth about why we’re here, so either answer our questions, or let us go!” 

The brunet stood close behind him, his arms folded and face firm in agreement. Decim watched them both in silence for a moment, his piercing eye carefully assessing the two men one by one. 

“Very well,” he replied calmly, turning around to face a small, blue button on the desk behind him. 

He pressed it. 

In that moment there was a loud hissing sound and instinctively, the brunet covered his nose as the bar suddenly filled with a strange, purple-tinted smoke. He and the redhead watched in confusion as Decim and his assistant moved aside, and the walls of the bar slid back and the lights rose up into the wooden frame of the bar, leaving it in darkness. Both men’s eyed widened at the sight before them. 

Behind the walls of the bar was a large, square room – an empty cavern that didn’t seem to have a ceiling, floor, or walls. A void space. And the contents of it made the redhead’s stomach heave. 

“Oh god,” he muttered under his breath, turning his head to the dark-haired young man behind him. “Hey, you. You’re seeing this too, right?” 

The taller man shot him a look. 

“Yeah. I am.” 

“Well, are those what I _think_ they are?” 

The brunet looked up at the sight of what appeared to be the silhouettes of several hundred dismembered, strung-up bodies hanging from a ceiling he couldn’t see. Arms, legs, torsos and full corpses were hanging from their necks, waists and ankles, causing them to hang awkwardly in the air like puppets caught up in their own strings. 

The redhead took a step back away from the bar so he was standing by the brunet’s side. 

The brunet narrowed his eyes at the bartender. 

“Now, if you are quite finished,” Decim said quietly, “my assistant and I are ready to begin the roulette.”


End file.
